


Look After You

by Bulletproof_love



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft is a Softie, POV Mycroft Holmes, Protective Mycroft, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24589462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulletproof_love/pseuds/Bulletproof_love
Summary: Mycroft comes home to find out that Greg has been struggling.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 16
Kudos: 163





	Look After You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tobeconspicuous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconspicuous/gifts).



It was silent when Mycroft stepped inside their shared apartment. There was a strangeness to it, as if their home had been drained of its essence.

It was never quiet when Gregory was home. He either argued with the television or sang along with music if he was listening to the radio as he muddled about doing whatever he was doing.

Lamplight emanated from the doorway of the living room. The rest of the hallway and the other rooms were still shrouded with shadows. Something else that was amiss.

He could usually track Gregory’s progress through the apartment by the number of lights he left on.

He set his brown leather satchel down quietly, his analytical gaze sweeping over Gregory’s untidy black shoes and his grey trench coat tossed carelessly onto the coatrack. His fingers tightened around the umbrella in his hand, clutching the wooden handle as he took purposeful steps towards the living room.

He hovered momentarily in the doorframe, his eyes coming to rest on the man perched on the edge of their couch, his head in his hands, his usually well-maintained greying hair jutting up at all angles.

_Gregory…_

His heart wrenched, his mouth suddenly dry as he took in the half empty decanter of scotch and the slight tremble of his beloved’s shoulders. He released the umbrella, leaving it leaning against the wall before treading towards Gregory in trepidation.

Gregory didn’t acknowledge his presence until Mycroft crouched down alongside him. He removed his hands from his face, showcasing red rimmed eyes, that were blood shot around the edges.

 _From the drinking,_ Mycroft summarised.

He looked exhausted, more than Mycroft had ever seen him. He wracked his brain considering the past few nights. He’d barely been home, dealing with some crisis or another so he had no idea if Gregory had been spending his nights sleeping or not.

“Gregory.” He prompted gently, his hand reaching out and clasping Gregory’s gently.

His thumb ran over the grooves of his knuckles, something that he knew Gregory often found soothing.

Gregory shook his head, swallowing hard as his gaze flickered upwards. Mycroft knew those signs; Gregory was trying to distance himself from those torrid emotions that were eating him up inside. He was trying to be strong, to keep everything locked away.

“I can’t talk about it.” Gregory said, his voice rough with emotion.

It was more of a case of being unable to, Mycroft considered. He knew what it was like to be overwhelmed, to have that feeling of hopelessness crash down on you, to be granted no reprieve.

“Alright.” Mycroft said quietly, patting Gregory’s hand.

He took in his lover’s appearance cataloguing the signs of weariness. The wrinkled baby blue shirt undone at the collar, sleeves rolled up, the scent of cigarettes clinging to the fabric.

All reminders of a day or more likely a couple of them, that were eating at Gregory like a cancer.

“Let’s get you into the shower, shall we?” Mycroft said lightly, raising to his feet.

He pulled Gregory up along with him, before tugging him in the direction of the bathroom. Gregory complied quietly, following Mycroft footsteps as if he didn’t have the energy to resist.

Mycroft reached into the shower enclosure, turning the water on and closing the door behind him before turning his attention back to Gregory.

He watched as his lover’s fingers fumbled over the buttons of his shirt before he stepped forward into Gregory’s proximity. He tilted his head so that he held Gregory’s gaze, a comforting smile crossing his lips as he spoke softly.

“Let me.”

He undid each of the buttons with relative ease before helped Gregory out of his shirt, allowing it to flutter to the floor. He unhooked the clasp on Gregory’s trousers before helping him to step out of them one foot at a time. He tossed them into the laundry basket in the corner before opening the door for the shower enclosure and gesturing for Gregory to step inside.

Gregory pursed his lips together, his pained eyes meeting Mycroft’s as he spoke.

“I need…”

He trailed off momentarily, but Mycroft understood. He could see that rawness in his eyes, the agony and he wanted to strip all of that away. What Greg needed was intimacy, he needed to feel the love that Mycroft felt for him, the knowledge that he would always be there.

“Of course.” Mycroft said softly. “I’ll be along in a moment.”

He stripped off his clothes one article at a time, starting with his overcoat. He felt Gregory’s eyes upon him as he shed each layer of armour until he was completely naked. It was that shared vulnerability that resonated with Gregory, the reminder that the two of them were equal when it came to one another.

Mycroft opened the door of the shower enclosure, stepping inside and closing it behind him. He watched as Gregory tilted his head back under the stream of the monsoon shower. The water ran like rain over his muscular chest and shoulders, flowing over this stomach and then lower. It was a magnificent sight marred only by wounded expression on Gregory’s features.

Mycroft reached for the Argan shower oil that Gregory favoured, he rubbed it between his hands and building it up into a lather. The scent was heavenly, it flooded the bathroom with a smell of argan and ylang ylang, aromas that Mycroft knew to be soothing.

He reached out, his palms coming to rest on Gregory’s pectorals before he began a slow remedying massage over Gregory’s wet skin. His ministrations were leisurely, both tender and purposeful as he soaped down Gregory’s muscular thighs and over his calves before working his way back up again.

He captured a spark of something in Gregory’s eyes as it ended in the same place as before, the two of them face to face, their gazes locked. He could see essence of Gregory’s spirit slowly seeping back into him, a ghost of the man he loved back in those eyes. Gregory’s arm looped around Mycroft’s waist, holding him close. He buried his face into the curve of Mycroft’s neck, seemingly taking solace there for the moment. Mycroft wrapped his arm around his lover, his fingertips trailing over those taut muscles as Gregory seemed to hold on to him for dear life.

They stayed that way for a long time, Mycroft cradling Gregory close until the water began to run cold. Mycroft turned it off, guiding Greg out of the shower before selecting the plushest towel they owned. With the upmost care, he used the towel to dry Gregory off, starting at his chest and back before working his way down to his feet. He wrapped the towel around Gregory’s waist, tucking it securely before capturing his gaze. The left side of Gregory’s mouth quirked into a small smile as he cupped the side of Mycroft’s face, the palm of his hand raking across the neat auburn beard.

“You always take good care of me.” He murmured; his tone hoarse as his thumb traced the curve of Mycroft’s cheekbone.

“Of course.” He whispered, pressing a featherlight kiss to Gregory’s palm. “We look after each other.”

Mycroft led him into the bedroom, indicating for Gregory to sit on the bed whilst Mycroft sorted through his dresser, plucking out Gregory’s vintage Meatloaf t-shirt and loose pyjama shorts. He dressed slowly as Mycroft changed into his own navy-blue pyjamas before returning to his seat at the edge of the bed. Mycroft took up residence alongside of him, his fingers entwining with Gregory’s as clothes brushed.

“It gets too much sometimes.” Gregory admitted quietly, his expression pained once more. “The death, the destruction, it’s too much.”

“Is that what happened tonight?” Mycroft queried, tilting his head so he could read Gregory’ features. “It became too much?”

Gregory nodded his response, his gaze distance.

“I love being a copper but there are days…” he trailed off, unable to continue.

“… it can be a thankless task.” Mycroft finished.

“Yeah.”

That was the problem with their jobs. The work they chose was unrelenting and all consuming, it took so much away from you, stripped you of your identity until you became it. Mycroft had been little more than his profession before he met Gregory, it was only after that things started to change, that he realised that there was more in this world for him.

“I love you.” Mycroft said quietly into the space between them. “And if you chose to take a step back then I will support you. There’s no shame in needing a break.”

Gregory raised his eyes to the ceiling again, his lips clamped tightly together as he studied the ceiling. Mycroft knew he was trying not to cry, that he was ashamed of his admission but at the same time relieved.

“I just needed to hear that.” Gregory said before releasing a shaky breath. “I just needed to know I’m not disappointing you.”

“Never.” Mycroft said resolutely, his fingertips lightly guiding Gregory’s gaze back to his. “There is nothing you can do that would ever disappoint me.”

His forehead came to rest upon Gregory’s, his hand caressing the back of his lover’s neck tenderly as Gregory made his decision.

“I think it’s time to take a break.”


End file.
